Family
After my lunch with Guchik, I moved quite busily to prepare a business proposal for my father-in-law. Although that’s the nature of reports, it’s quite a chore to stretch out trivial matters into something that sounds plausible. Still, it was worth the trouble.
"Hmm, not bad."
You only read two pages, didn't you?
Even though I had put all my effort into making the proposal as tedious to read as possible, I hadn't expected him to really just skim the first two pages and move on.
"Actually, it's better to hear it directly from you than to read through papers."
Al Capone, having set down the thick proposal, turned his gaze toward me.
"So, you're saying that with this milk, we can make a business as profitable as the hooch trade?"
Hmm, how should I explain this?
"In truth, the profit from selling milk alone doesn't reach the level of our current bootlegging operations."
"Lee, that sounds a bit different from what you told me last week."
"But it isn't exactly wrong, either."
"Speak clearly."
I continued with an indifferent expression toward my father-in-law, who wore a look that suggested he’d pull my tongue out if I said one wrong word.
"It’s obvious, but in the United States right now, alcohol is illegal while milk is legal."
"So?"
"To smuggle, store, and sell alcohol, we incur costs to smooth over the illegality. Bribes, losses to maintain secrecy, disputes with other organizations. Didn't we spend millions of dollars in the war against the North Side just a while ago?"
"Hmm, that's true."
"On top of that, even if we earn money that hard, it’s difficult to spend it freely under federal surveillance. We inevitably suffer losses trying to turn it into 'clean' money."
The bootlegging business looked like a miraculous money-printing machine if you only looked at the cost of the alcohol versus the sale price, but it wasn't so simple when you looked closer. It was just that the costs were absorbed into the organization's operating expenses, making them less visible.
"But with milk, there is no need for that. If we buy it honestly, transport it well, and sell it, the remaining money is clean, and it’s money you can use freely, Boss. Even if we have to give a little to the feds."
Plus, if you consider the bonus of improving the image of my father-in-law and the organization, it might not be more profitable than bootlegging, but it would be on a similar level.
"Hmm... that's not wrong. We could certainly reduce our operating expenses."
Once my explanation finished, my father-in-law nodded after a moment of thought. In fact, isn't the goal of a gang organization ultimately for people who can't make ends meet to band together and live well? The means to achieve that goal just happened to be a bit of verbal and physical violence, but the premise itself wasn't much different from other corporations. If you can earn a lot of money with low risk, there’s no reason for a gang—or a Yakuza—not to choose it.
"If you need anything, talk to Nitti or Guchik. Since we need to use the bootlegging routes within the city, we'll need the help of the two who were involved in building them."
"Yes, Boss."
I can deal with Guchik, but Nitti is a bit of a hassle. I’ll have to look into a dairy farm before that, though.
That aside.
"Also, there is one more thing I need to tell you."
"What is it?"
"It's about the Western business."
"Go on."
"First of all, isn't the distance between Chicago, the center of the organization, and Nevada quite far?"
The distance to our target, Las Vegas, was roughly 2,800 kilometers. Since passenger planes weren't reliable yet, it would take about 50 hours if we traveled by train, the fastest mode of transportation. It was never going to be easy for Chicago to directly manage a place that required two days and nights of travel.
"So, I think it would be good to create a base for the organization in the West."
"Hmm."
"And while we're at it, it wouldn't be bad to create a source of revenue on the West Coast."
"So, are you saying you'll go yourself? It seems like it would be difficult for you to move because of your business."
He wasn't wrong. It wasn't easy for me to leave Chicago when I had to handle SCC work and the milk business. Since there was no internet in this era, I couldn't just teleport back and forth like Jeon Woo-chi every time I needed to do paperwork. In the end, there was only one way.
"That is why I am asking for your permission, Boss."
"Permission?"
"Among my countrymen, there is someone from San Francisco. He's quite capable, so I was wondering if I could entrust him with the work."
If I can't go, I have to use a proxy. And a very competent one at that.
"Lee, are you telling me to trust a guy I've never even seen and entrust him with the organization's work?"
Of course, my father-in-law's reaction was cold.
"Of course, I will only proceed if you see him yourself and give your approval."
"That's not the problem. I'm talking about how I can trust and use someone who has no connection to the organization, not even a drop of shared blood."
It was a natural response. Originally, Italian-American gangs, including the Chicago Outfit, wouldn't even accept members who weren't of Italian descent. Even I, Al Capone's son-in-law, had to operate as a collaborator rather than a member outside the organization. For my father-in-law, entrusting organization work to an Asian with whom he shared no blood was naturally unsettling.
"Boss, in the East, there is a culture of 'sworn brothers'."
Of course, it wasn't that there was no way to persuade him.
"Even if we didn't share blood, once we form a bond as brothers, we trust and follow each other more than real brothers, and it's a relationship forged by such deep faith that we could even give our lives for one another."
"Hmm, so it's the same 'Family'. And?"
"I intend to entrust this work to my sworn brother."
Well, I hadn't actually gotten his consent yet, though.
After finishing my conversation with my father-in-law, I headed to a secluded back alley on the outskirts of Chicago.
[Veterans' House]
It was a dilapidated building that looked like a small lounge for veterans of the Great War, judging by the name and the plaque outside. Why a facility that should be on a main street was here could be understood once you opened the wooden front door.
"Triple."
"Full House."
"Aaaagh! That makes no sense! It was definitely two pair!"
"It's obvious since one more card was added. Anyway, I'll be taking these chips."
"I traded my house deed for those... oh, god..."
From cards, Blackjack, and Baccarat to Craps played with dice. The solemn, dignified, and serious exterior was just a disguise; in reality, it was a secret casino for gambling enthusiasts.
"Kiyaaa!"
"Hey, keep it down with the cards."
"I, I did it! Hahaha!"
I pushed through the people gathered in groups at the tables, enjoying their dopamine festival, and went inside. Soon, I reached the counter located at the very back of the casino.
"Here are the chips. Count them carefully."
I waved my hand toward the Asian man who was handing out chips to the customers.
"Brother Lee."
"Ah, my younger brother has arrived!"
I smiled and spoke to Lee Min-seok, the man who ran over the moment I called him.
"You were crying about business being bad last time, but your face looks a bit brighter now?"
"This is all thanks to you, my brother, and Mr. Capone. Hahaha!"
"Anyway, I'm glad things are going well. It's good for the organization that you're doing well, too."
After getting to know me better since we first met on New Year's Day, he had maintained a humble attitude toward me every time we met. He had no choice since he was doing business in our organization's territory, but sometimes it felt a bit burdensome. Still, since I had been coming by for a cup of coffee every now and then for a few months, we had become quite close compared to when we first met. It was somewhat intentional, though.
"But what brings you here today? If it's about the tribute, I gave it to the other gentleman a few days ago."
"Do you really think I came all this way just to collect money?"
With those words, I gestured toward the counter, unlike usual. It meant this wasn't a conversation to be had here.
"Ah, yes. Then come inside and have a cup of coffee."
As if he understood my intentions, Brother Lee nodded and led me to a small room behind the counter. As I sat down in front of a poker table that looked quite luxurious, as if it were reserved for VIPs, he brought me coffee and sat down.
"Brother, what's the matter? It seems like there hasn't been anything special going on lately. By any chance, has something happened to Mr. Capone?"
"No way."
I shook my head, took a sip of coffee, and went straight to the point.
"Brother Lee, let me ask you a few things."
"Go ahead."
"When we talked before, you said you were from San Francisco, right?"
"That's right. I knew quite a few of the guys in Chinatown there. It's been over 10 years, but I'm sure they'd recognize me if I went."
Then he would be somewhat familiar with the local situation.
"Then, did you make a living by gambling there, too?"
"Brother, I'm a man who grabbed a card when I was a baby! Well, I was in an orphanage, so I didn't do the first-birthday ritual, but still."
I already knew roughly about his gambling skills. As far as I knew, the man in front of me was a very skilled gambler. In other words, a card shark who was good with 'techniques'. According to a YouTube video I saw in my past life, he supposedly traveled around Japan and Morocco until the 1950s and made quite a living. Considering he had enough money to open a gambling den even after failing several businesses after being discharged from the military, his gambling skills were definitely trustworthy.
"You also went to war."
"Thanks to that, I made one hell of a sign for the shop."
Then he must have combat experience, so he wouldn't be a coward. That was enough to confirm everything.
"Then, how much stake do you think you'd need to shake up the gambling scene in San Francisco? Don't worry about your life."
"...Brother, are you telling me to go to San Francisco?"
I nodded toward Brother Lee, whose mouth was twitching in confusion.
"You don't have to worry too much because the organization will provide support. You just need to become famous for gambling there and establish a foothold. And secure a place for our organization to enter."
"Is Mr. Capone interested in San Francisco?"
"It's difficult to talk about that far, but anyway, that's the case. Is it possible?"
In other words, Brother Lee's role was a kind of camouflage. It was obvious that if we openly showed our organization trying to move outside of Chicago, it would alert the feds or other organizations. So, he needed to draw attention from the front until we could properly establish ourselves in San Francisco, enough to call it our organization's base. Since he was from San Francisco, there wouldn't be anything to be suspicious about.
"...You said don't worry about my life, right?"
"There are friends who will go with you. They will act as bodyguards and monitors."
"Hmm..."
Knowing that my proposal was quite dangerous, Brother Lee's contemplation was quite long. But he, who had one foot in the underworld, would easily know what he could gain in return. Before long.
"...20,000 dollars. That much stake should be enough. Is that possible?"
I nodded at Brother Lee's question, which ended his contemplation.
"That much is well within my reach. If you show results, I can send more."
"Is that so..."
Is he finally motivated? As expected, you have to talk about money to get things moving.
"Brother, trust me! I will definitely crush all the gambling dens in San Francisco!"
"Don't crush them, because then we won't have a place to use as a base."
Our Brother Lee is full of spirit, absolutely overflowing.
"And, there is something to do before that."
"Something to do?"
"The Boss said he wanted to see you once. He said he would see you himself and judge."
"C-Capone, the Boss?"
He won't eat you, he won't eat you.